


Good Luck

by Heylir



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir
Summary: Post-Curtain Call, Mal learns where Wolfe put his violin.The first scene happens on the Barbers’ farm, the rest does back in Widdershins.





	Good Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Везение](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251027) by [Heylir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heylir/pseuds/Heylir). 

> This translation was made by the author. I'd be grateful to be informed about typos and mistakes found, in order to fix them.

There was silence in a room, except for the rustling of the book’s pages that Wolfe turned over and scraping of Ben’s pencil that he scribbled in his notebook with. Mal got bored and reached into his pocket for his tobacco, but he looked at Ben and decided not.  
“Wolfe, can ye?..” He stopped himself. “Th’ hell, I forgot. I wanted t’ask ye th’ other day, where d’ye put yer violin?”  
Before Wolfe had a chance to reply, Ben shut his notebook.  
“I remembered something,” he said quickly. “I must ask Sidney Malik about some details. And Vee, too. Anyway, I'll leave you for a time.”  
He took his notebook and pencil and hurried from the room.  
“What’s wron’ with ‘im?” Puzzled, Mal looked at Wolfe.  
“Never mind,” he waved his hand. “I left my violin in a secure place... in the hands of some reliable person. Just for keeping it safe. I shall take it when we come back.”  
“Ah,” Mal seemed to relax. “Alright. Whom d’ye give it to?” he asked casually.  
Wolfe coughed gently, closed his book and put it aside.  
“To Dominik,” he said at last.  
“To whom?” Mal didn't understand at first.  
“To Dominik Voss.”  
“T’ whom?! T’ **Voss**? Th’t traitorous...”  
“Mal.”  
“...envious...”  
“Mal!”  
“...double-dealin’ bast...”  
“Mal, please, don't!”  
“s’him y’called a **reliable** person?!”  
“Mal, look. He is a different man now.”  
“‘eard ‘t already, y’know. Now ‘e's singin’ th’ same song, ‘gain?”  
“He is not. I have seen that, with my own eyes. Dominik helped us defeat Envy and saved us all. If it was not for him...”  
“’f s’not fer ‘im, nobody ‘ad t’ be saved from Envy.”  
“That is not true,” Wolfe said gently. “The Seven Deadlies would still get released, with him or no. And maybe, we all were very lucky that it is Voss summoned Envy, not someone else.”  
Mal grunted, “S’not ‘is credit, y’see. That ‘e in’t any good as a villain or anythin’ else.”  
Wolfe shook his head, “He managed to do something no one of us was able to do. He broke Envy’s string as it wanted to make him…” He looked at Mal, “...well, kill me. We, everyone, did what it wanted, and he could tell it _No_.”  
“None o’ ye’s been keepin’ company w’Envy fer years. ‘e ‘as.”  
“Yes, so I hoped he could help us because of that. And he could. The good things came of the bad ones.”  
“Doesn’t cancel th’ bad past ‘ings,” Mal muttered.  
“And the other way round. The past does not cancel what he has done now. Mal, he risked his life for mine. He offered himself to Envy, instead of me.”  
Mal shrugged, dismissively.  
“I didn't kick ‘im, ‘en. Didn't mind yer lettin’ ‘im go. Now ye gave ‘im a chance, it worked, fine. Y’re a good fellow, he... s’not a complete so-an’-so. But givin’ yer violin t’ him?” Mal’s voice pitched a bit higher. “Jus’ don't say y’couldn’t find some other secure place fer it.”  
Wolfe looked at Mal, a little apologetically. “I could not. He... he won the day, he saved us all, but he was not happy. He looked like... he felt lost. I wanted to support him, somehow. What else could I have done, my friend?”  
Mal grinned, “Don’t ask _me_. Alright. ‘e's surely gonna break or lose it, but w’can get another violin, not another ye.”  
Wolfe smiled, “Thank you, Mal. But I am sure he will return it safe and sound, I would not give it to him otherwise.”  
“Wanna bet?”  
“On what?”  
“Ye'll play whatever I wish. W’ a new violin.”  
“You do not need betting for that. And if I win the bet?”  
“Then ye may ask me fer anythin’,” Mal promised generously.

⁂

Wolfe held the violin case carefully, with his face beaming, but Mal looked above him, at the violinist playing inspiredly and glowing with joyful colours.  
“My violin is all right!”  
“See I’ve lost m’ bet”, Mal said nonchalantly. “Make yer wish.”  
Wolfe shook his head, “I do not need anything.”  
“Think ‘gain?”  
Wolfe thought for a moment and smiled cunningly.  
“Very well. Please bring some rice from the kitchen, I have to clean my violin.”  
Mal frowned but went to fulfil the wish.  
“Thank you,” Wolfe tore a pack open. “And now I ask you for something, but it is just a request, not the wish to be granted.”  
Mal grinned, “A sly thin’, ye’re. Shoot away!”  
“Dominik wants to talk with you.”  
Mal scowled, “What’s he ‘ave t’ talk w’ me about?”  
“I do not know. But if you find it disagreeable...”  
“Can’t care less. S’not ye that put ‘im up t’ it?”  
“Of course not. I did not say a word...”  
“I know ye, don't need words fer ‘ese things. Alright, let ‘im come in. We’re gonna have a talk.”

⁂

O’Malley sat on his bed and passed his hand through the air as if he stroked an invisible cat. He didn’t look up as Voss came in.  
“He said, ye want to talk to me?”  
It seemed to Voss that O’Malley tried to talk more properly than usual.  
“Yes. I want to... say sorry.”  
Thus engaged, O’Malley didn’t still look at him.  
“Why to me?”  
“I apologised before Wolfe and Thackerey already.”  
O’Malley shrugged.  
“Ye were Envy’s tool. Did what it told. You ain’t gonna mess with me, yourself. Ye were scared to death of yer master, that’s all.”  
“How do you know?”  
“I saw,” O’Malley muttered between his teeth.  
“How?”  
“With my eyes. If it weren’t for Ben jumping at ye, you’d know what I talk about.”  
“You mean...” Voss stopped. “It’s your vision it told me to steal? You were able to see Envy... and it said you can see many things. You can see spirits and... people’s feelings?”  
O’Malley didn’t reply.  
“It said later that I wouldn’t like it,” Voss recalled.  
“Even liars tell th’ truth sometimes,” O’Malley said grimly.  
Voss thought for a moment.  
“But then... Then, in Prussia, you could see my true feelings? It’s why you tried to talk Wolfe out of going with me?”  
O’Malley get up abruptly and went to the wall.  
“I could. I tried. An’ y’know what ‘e said t’ me?” O’Malley attempted to imitate Wolfe’s talking. “But most people are good inside, yes?” He snorted in disgust and pounded his fist against the wall. “Bugger ye! How could ye? How could y’do such a thin’ T’ HIM? ‘e called ye ‘is friend, he trusted ye, an’ ye... How COULD ye sell ‘im out like th’t?”  
In excitement, O’Malley began to speak rapidly and skip sounds, so Voss made out no more than one word per three ones, but he understood the point. He got to know English and himself good enough for giving the true answer, but he didn’t think it would help anyone. So he just said, simply and calmly,  
“Wolfe’s very lucky that he has such a friend like you.”  
Unfortunately, O’Malley mistook his words for a mockery. He turned on his heels to Voss, clenching his fists, “I ain’t an angel, ne’er been, ne’er pretended t’ be! But I’d ne’er...” He stared straight at Voss, for the first time in their talking, and cut off suddenly. In silence, he went back to his bed and sat on it.  
“What’ve you seen?” Voss demanded.  
“Ye don’t tell ‘bout it!” snapped O’Malley. “An’ ye don’t ask, ‘bout yerself or others. Is it clear t’ ye?”  
“Yes,” Voss replied obediently.  
After a pause, O’Malley went on, more mildly.  
“He said, ye saved his life.”  
Voss got heavily embarrassed, “It isn’t...”  
“I know that ‘it isn’t’,” O’Malley said sullenly. “Ye haven’t t’ explain. But if we were so lucky, an’ we’re alive an’ all,” he moved his shoulder, “what’s th’ use of thinkin’ about old past stuff?”  
Voss raised his good eye to O’Malley, incredulous.  
“You really think so?”  
“Can’t tell fer all, nat’rally. But I’ve got enough on my hands fer mindin’ all that crap.” He passed his hand through the air again and turned away, letting Voss know that the talk is over.  
“Thanks,” said Voss, instead of _good-bye_.

⁂

“How was it?” Wolfe asked, rosining his fiddlestick.  
“So-so. We didn’t come t’ blows if ye were ‘fraid of that.”  
He smiled, “No, I was not afraid of_ that_. Or something else. But I am glad.”  
Wolfe put the rosin away and took his violin out of the case. Getting ready for listening to music, Mal sat in the chair, tucked his legs beneath him, shifted a little and made a casual-like remark, “He’s changed.”  
“We all change,” Wolfe replied serenely as if there was nothing unusual in Mal’s words.  
“But fer that, not everyone’s gotta...” Mal thought it best not to finish.  
“Yes, some people are more lucky than others,” Wolfe agreed, in the same tone, putting the violin under his chin.  
The bow touched the strings. As usual, Mal tilted his head back for a better view of Wolfe’s spirit. For a moment he remembered another, _changed_ aura, with a human face, two sound eyes, and faint glimmers of the same colours. But the music began, and he could think only about it and Wolfe.  
Mal knew his good luck when he saw it.


End file.
